Editing a New Self Image

I'm a Mac user after many, many years of owning a PC and using both at work and school. I'm a photographer and so getting my MacBook Pro was very exciting. I actually decided to make the switch after using my husband's MacBook to put together a video slideshow with music for a client I had done some commercial work for. Not only did I do stock images for their banquet hall, but I shot an event their and they played my slideshow on a bit screen. It was pretty damned cool that I got to stretch my skills and  it was one of many sessions I did for them.

One thing that is clear now compared to even then, is that the quality of the images I take has improved drastically, as had my editing.

I don't edit all that much really. White balance, contrast, saturation, sharpness, and conversion to B&W are my usual tweaks if I'm not playing around and wanting to do something funky.

What is interesting are the images of myself (not that there are many).

I will admit that when I take and edit an image of myself, I do edit out major blemishes in my skin, like this one:

(You can still see that they are there under the makeup, but trust me when I say they are not nearly as bad)

Why?

I've had hormonal induced acne since I hit I got my first period, which was at 15. It's been so bad that I have scarring on my face and I hate it.

Yes, it truly provokes such a visceral reaction in me because I find it has clouded my self image for so many years. Those who will remember my bitching about my cycles, may recall that I have annoyingly short cycles (21-25 days). In the 2-5 days before I start a cycle, I break out. Sometimes just a little; other times they are big and hurt and all I want to do is hide under a thick layer of makeup (which only makes me look worse).

So yeah, I break out roughly every 3 weeks or so, which means my skin has barely recovered from one cycle before I break out again. Ugghhh!

Now, I've tried so many different solutions. I've had prescription cleansers, birth control pills that were supposed to help skin too (and only messed up my hormonal balance worse- I can't tolerate BCPs at all). I've tried consistent facial cleansing routines using inexpensive drug store products, and even expensive all natural products. Nothing works for long…

Why? Because aside from the fact that my skin adapts to these products too quickly, it's hormonally induced and (I believe) related to the low progesterone that results in my LPD (Luteal Phase Defect). So until I have a solution for that (that I can afford), I don't foresee any magical cures for my acne. I should add though that my hormone imbalance is something I want to look into more…. at some point.

Suffice to say I cringe when I see myself in photos sometimes. So when I want to use an image for a profile here, or on Facebook, I edit it. I take that lovely little blemish brush on either of my editing programs, iPhoto or GIMP (three cheers for open source) and make those awful marks go away.

I look at the image I took recently, especially the B&W version I have up here, and go, 'gosh, you know, she's kind of pretty…' Beauty is in the eye of the beholder but my own beauty is hidden beneath a mask that for now, only a photo editing brush can reveal.

Perhaps I shouldn't care. But I do. My acne clouds my self-image and affects my self esteem at times. It has nothing to do with how I treat myself, but more the confidence I exude to the world around me. On the days where it isn't so bad or I get a small break from the acne, I wear makeup well and can see the same person in my edited images.

I have no illusions to looking anything other than I look. But I use that editing tool to show myself what I really look like, as opposed to creating some idealized version. That's not the point.

I just need a reminder of who that women in the photo is. She's there, if just a bit hidden at times.

Mama Bear Comes Out of Her Cave

It was like suddenly turning on a light in a dark room. Bam! Spring is really here. March was a cold and grey month as well as rainy and stormy as it often is in Vancouver. Then about three days ago, it was sunny and warm. The trees and flowers make the air smell sweet and the breeze off the water makes me want to run to the beach and relax.

And so it was this change in weather that gave me a sudden burst in energy. I have checklists of things to do and am slowly working through them. I actually have several posts on the go at the moment and will be finishing them shortly. But for now, this mama bear is done hibernating. She's had a good rest and is ready to get off her butt and be productive.

Finding Where You Left Off

I didn't have the best sleep last night, so when I woke up this morning exhausted, I was pretty certain that my plan for the morning was a no-go. But, after some breakfast and a cup of coffee, I looked longingly out the windows at the brilliant blue sky, the sun bright and warming.

So I went.

In the fall, as a encouragement to help me get back into exercising, we went out and bought a new pair of runners. I paid more for them than I had planned, but when I tried them on, it was like marshmallows had been strapped to my soles. I pronate (my feet turn turn in) and need good arch support. These runners make each step like being on a spring. My back has never loved me so much.

I changed into my workout gear, laced up the runners, and threw my keys, cell phone and iPod into my jacket pockets. Outside, the air was cooler than I expected. Crisp but not cold- perfect for a run.

I walked part way up the street to warm up and then when it felt right, I picked up the pace. Each step cushioned and even, propelling me forward. I ran, finding a rythym with my breathing, relaxing into each movement. After a minute or two, I'd switch to a brisk walk until my heart rate settled and then it was back to running. For the most part I kept a 3 to 1 pace (3 walking, 1 running), which surprised me with how easy it was.

It was only 20 minutes but the time was my own and it was freeing. I hadn't been running in such a long time (2007?!?) and I think more than anything it was about reclaiming something I lost in these last three years. I lost the ability to push myself and at the same time be in tune with my body. With those steps, it was like a cleansing of sorts. When I got back to the apartment, I was tired but also energized.

Having awesome runners didn't hurt either.

All that is Not Hidden

The mirror tells no lies.

Looking back at her is a face,
young still but having borne witness to life,
Real Life.

There are the scars and marks of acne,
Not the stuff of teenage angst but that
which sticks around (unfortunately).

High cheekbones highlight
a longer face with a distinctive chin;
a mouth framed with dimples.

Deep dark eyes that, at various times
show joy, and sadness,
love and despair.

And hope.
Always Hope.

It Is What It Is

I apologize in advance for what is sure to be a rambling ADD riddled post. After a week away, can you blame me? And you never know, this make take more than one post.

We got home Tuesday. I was never so glad to have my own bed and get our Bean back on a routine. Silly person that I am, I thought that having our own space agaon would be good. I am an idiot. Back into said routine, I'm trying to keep myself together and write without crying. I very nearly want to call my dear husband and tell him to come home. He's at the Library working on his Thesis. And I need him to work on his thesis so he can get a job so we don't end up homeless and begging on the street for money to buy formula and diapers. And besides, if we're lucky, R will be able to find a Wii on sale- if they're not all sold out.

Speaking of formula, Baby Girl is eating her third meal of the day. I swear she just ate and went down for a nap. We paused for a diaper change, I LOVE diaper changes!! I know, I'm nuts. But it's these moments when we're face-to-face and I have her undivided attention. She listens to whoever is talking to her and begins grinning like an idiot. She smiles like her Daddy and her Grandpa (my Dad)- right into her eyes. It melts not just my heart but every part of me.

As I was changing her just now she stared into my eyes smiling. I burst into tears. At the beginning of this post I had convinced myself that I could hold out, that I didn't need the medication. Staring at her, soaking up all her sweetness, I know I have to- for her, for R and for myself. The fibro is slight, the PPD deafening in it's roar. They feed off each other. I need to break the cycle.

So here we are on the eve of a new year. I will start it having had my heart full with more joy than I thought possible. And I will start it trying to fix the things that have gone wrong in my body and my mind.

I feel a bit like a failure by needing the meds. And you don't have to say it, I know there's nohting wrong with medication if you need it -I've heard it all. Right now this is how I feel. I'll get over it.

So I wish you a Happy New Year. I have much to catch you up on and much catching up to do myself. But tonight, I am going to curl up with my incredible husband and my baby. We're going to read a bedtime story to our dear girl, put her to bed and watch a movie (or play Wii if we're lucky).

And then I will take the step I need to to fix this.

See you in 2010.

Lessons - Part 1

She's two weeks old already and in my sleep deprived haze I can't recall where those days went. Not suprising really but then again, I never imagined just how tired I was going to find myself. Here and there I have a moment to reflect on all the things I've learned about pregnancy, labour and birth and am learning about Motherhood. Here's a few:

Lessons learned:

-birth, even if it goes according to your plan (which mine didn't of course), it is nothing like you expect

-I never knew how much I was going to miss feeling her move inside of me but I also never knew how much I was going to love holding her in my arms and gazing at her beautiful face.

-The two most amazing moments during the birth were touching her head between pushing and realizing that I was in fact pushing her out and the moment they first laid her on my chest- pure magic.

-Her first cries made me cry. I didn't think I would be a crier. But I was.

-The first thought I had when she came out was, "What a real baby?!?"

When I was still pregnant, I would have made a comment about how pregnancy loss affects every moment of your life. Now, I say that it informs these moments- not taking over, just adding a level of reflection that might not have been there before. I am not just a lost-baby mama anymore, I'm a Mom to a real in-the-flesh creature. As I felt her move inside me, even at the end, I still had moments where I couldn't quite believe it was going to happen. But it did. It's still surreal but the emotions that run through me are very real and strong and poignant.

A beautiful end to a sad story and a happy beginning of another. More later when I get a little more sleep...

In Remembrance

Today my family is remembering my brother, D. 16 years ago today, he lost his final battle with cancer after bravely fighting for so many years.

In 2003, we finally did the thing I had been needing, even craving... to put to rest his ashes. We scattered them as a family into the ocean at a park he and my Mom had spent a lot of time at when he was little.Back to the earth from which he came. To hold these ashes and set them free was cathartic, healing. I had spent 10 years grieving without ever really coming to grips with it. In that moment, everything became clear and calm.

6 years later since we put him to rest, I have only good memories. The intense pain replaced with a calm remembrance. It doesn't hurt the same way, just a little sadness. I miss him.

We had our prenatal classes at the hospital where I'll deliver Bean. It's a part of this complex of hospitals that also includes our Children's Hospital. This is the hospital where David was. To get to the building where our class was I had to walk around the outside (before I discovered the shortcut) past Children's. On one of the last classes, I was walking past the side of the hospital and then I heard it... the sound of children playing. I paused and looked up. I smiled. Outside on the 3rd floor between the 3A and 3B wards is a playground. There's a playroom just inside too. My younger brother and I played in both these places when we were visiting D.

I was hit by a flood of memories. Some happy, some sad but always lovely memories of a time that not only was incredibly difficult for my family but also brought us together in the most amazing way.

As I listened to the kids playing I thought about how resilient they are. They could be going through the scariest disease but somehow remain optimistic about life. The laughter of those kids on the playground that day still rings in my head and makes me smile.

In honour of D, with love from your sister, may you always remind me to live each moment as it is and make the most of everything I'm given. A lesson I hope to pass on to Bean as well.

Reflections on a Year

I was sent home from work early today. A perk when your birthday lands on a Friday. "Go, get out of here!" Okay then, don't have to ask me twice!

I was reflecting on this day on my train ride into work this morning. In fact, I was composing this blog post in my head. It was thoughtful and eloquent.

Then I got to work and well, it was nuts.

So here I am, finally taking a moment to truly reflect on where I was a year ago and where I am now. If you have no idea about last year's b-day, click HERE for a re-cap. Re-reading my entry, I sound so calm about it, even though I wrote the Sept.4th entry mere days after the fact. I sound distant, cut-off. Probably a self-defensive mechanism.

Today wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Bittersweet for sure though. When I look back, I am surprised by how strong I am now. I have come so far and grown in so many ways. I am truly a different person than I used to be. I am more mellow. I am learning better ways of taking things in stride.

I had been through difficult times but I don't think anything could have prepared me for the back-to-back heartbreak both R and I endured this last year. Life is so fleeting and fragile. I have understood this well before from going through fibro and watching my brother battle cancer but until losing my babies I never truly comprehended how something so natural, so basic to the human race, could go so wrong. It's a reality that puts life into perspective.

But a year later, our journey has gone places I never would have dreamed. A marriage hit the rocks and bounced back stronger than ever, a wounded mother found her strength tested in the appearance once again of a second line and that same couple now is bracing themselves for the most wonderful, joyful and frightening experience they have yet to encounter thus far. It's the end of a life chapter and the beginning of so many more. Our last childbirth class last night helped us see just how emotional the birth of our little girl really will be for us. How we'll be tested. What is to come cannot be known and I am okay with that because at the end of the day, nothing is set in stone. For better or for worse, this is our path; we shall walk it together and accept whatever comes our way.

That is simply life.

The Calm After the Storm

The humidity was so thick it almost stole your breath. The dense summer heat building throughout the day until it cannot contain itself any longer. In a brilliant show, it breaks.

Streaks cut the sky. In the distance, rumbles echo. The gathered clouds release the collective breath they had been holding. The scent of damp earth permeates our apartment. The scent of fresh clean air is everywhere.

Pounding thunder over the building takes me back to my childhood. The fascination of the lightning, the fear of the loud sounds that followed.

As the evening draws closer the sky begins to change.

The hot day displayed in the hazy fiery reds and oranges.

Violet bleeds into indigo.

Indigo to black.

The convergence of hot and cold air lights up the night sky in streaks and sheets, like the flash of my camera. When it's over, the cool damp will remain until the new day's sun dries it. But the scent clings in my memory.

One Step at a Time

Well I survived. It's Wednesday and I'm still exhausted. The craziness doesn't necessarily end now that this event is over (I start working on another one soon enough), but at least it's not keeping me up at night or giving me panic attacks.

I'm counting down the days (4 work days) till I'm on vacation. We're not going to far, just for a long weekend (4 days) to visit some family. But then I get 6 days at home to do whatever the h*ll I want to. There are some friends I want to catch up with, a disaster of an apartment to clean and tidy (and make room for a certain little one), oh, and did I mention some serious beach bumming? Yes, I plan to relax with some good books and carefully (with high spf) catch some rays.

When I come go back to work, depending on Bean, I'll have only 8-10 weeks till I go on mat leave. I'm hoping to make it to Oct.1 but I also recognize that it may be Sept.15. We'll see how things go.

But 8-10 weeks isn't much time to get my sh*t together, finish projects and get things ready for my replacement. It's a little scary how fast time is going by.

On top of, oh you know, getting ready to bring a child into this world, dh and I are trying to prepare ourselves for the other huge changes that could/will come our way in a mere 6 months. Dh is writing his PhD thesis. When he's done, so is his experiment. Then he'll have to look for a post-doctoral job. Yep, no potential stress there...

One step at a time of course, but there are so many changes that will come our way. We're just trying to take it a month at a time, but I'm a planner. I need to look ahead and prepare myself for many different possibilities.

It's just overwhelming when you put everything into perspective.

On a happy note, we're going for our 3D u/s tomorrow. I'll be 24 weeks (6 months!!!), so you know what that means... belly pic time. And show and tell...

Show and Tell: In Search of Happiness

This week's S&T is about my need to slow down, stop stressing over things I can't control and focus on what's important.

I love The Fray. It just has to be said. They have amazing melodies and stunning lyrics. But this song takes the cake. Go ahead and have a listen and if you need them, the lyrics follow.

You may want to keep a tissue handy...

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN

Happiness- The Fray

Happiness is just outside my window
Would it crash blowing 80-miles an hour?
Or is happiness a little more like knocking
On your door, and you just let it in?

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow
Let it be, you can’t make it come or go
But you are gone- not for good but for now
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard
Happiness was never mine to hold
Careful child, light the fuse and get away
‘Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that’s probably enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar

Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you’ll never find it all
But let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she’ll be home

Home, home, home
_____________________________

This songs grips my heart each and every time I listen to it. Almost every single line speaks to me. I really think you could apply this song to any situation in your life.

Breath. Absorb it. It's that good.

Don't forget to stop by Mel's and check out rest of the class is showing...

The First Sprouts of a Season

Right now, the sun has sunk beneath the horizon and the lines of the Gulf Islands. The sky is riddled with different cloud formations and is streaked with peach, magenta and violet. The air is crisp this evening but during the day it was warm and moist.

The spring rain has settled in. The kind that starts and stops unpredictability.

My bulbs are doing their thing. The crocuses are making their way and surprisingly, some of my tulips (?) have made leaps in terms of growth. Must be a couple early bulbs.

There's something magical about the arrival of spring here in this green lush home of mine. Although we seem to be prone to freak snowfalls as of late, you can feel the change in the air. We leave our window in the bedroom open at night. I love fresh air flowing. It helps me sleep. Some people don't like hearing the noise from the street but in an odd way, the sounds of the Skytrain coming to and from the station, the cars on the street and the occasional siren from an emergency vehicle all serve as an urban lullaby, soothing in it's own strange way.

Spring, a time of beginnings.

Show and Tell: A Tale of Remembered Innocence

If you're here for the first time (from ICLW), make sure to visit this post first before continuing...

Lately, I've been in a very "Walk-Down-Memory-Lane" sort of mood. At first I thought I wasn't sure why but really, I do know. It's because this cocktail of pregnancy hormones makes me susceptible to my mind wandering all over the place (I mean, more so than usual). Since I'm not ready to think about the future too seriously (SO not ready for that!), I go back and remember other times, other places.

Apr 2008: We had been through our first cycle TTC in March. Do you remember that first cycle? You know, the one where you really have no idea what you're doing in terms of timing and words like BBT, O and LP didn't mean anything? It was a time when I thought pregnancy equaled babies, before I discovered how wrong I was.

We went through April wondering and dreaming of the possibilites. I remember a walk we took through Stanley Park. We talked about how if we did get pregnant that month, how we could tell his family at his Grandfather's 80th b-day party in May. This thought excited us.

This was all before we thought that this cycle was a bust. Before a negative test and the appearance of af ruined the party. Before we found out after 11 further days of spotting after af left, that I was in fact pregnant but miscarrying. Before our dreams and innocence were shattered.

This is a photo from that walk. It's a snapshot of a time where we could dream without worry. It's a place I'm envious of because I know I can't go back there. I've had to dream new dreams with the reality of the past sitting on the edge reminding me of things lost but never forgotten.

I may not be able to go back there but I can look at it and remember.

Do you have a time of innocence you like to revisit? Leave a note and don't forget to stop by Mel's to check out what the rest of the class is showing...

Show and Tell: A Reminder Not to be Jaded

So this weekend was spent hanging out with my Mom and some friends. It was lovely and much needed.

As the ferry left the berth in Swartz Bay (Victoria side of the crossing) I became thoughtful of all the times I've done this crossing. R and I commuted back and forth for a year after he moved to Vancouver to continue with his grad studies on site. I had to stay in Victoria to finish my last year of my business diploma. We did the best we could and took turns every weekend making the crossing and spending the weekend with each other.

Those first crossings were especially intense because of the meaning they held: they were the first tests of our fairly new relationship (5 months). It was this year that proved my first instinct the day of our fateful meeting- that we were meant to be together. It wasn't easy being apart and sometimes even being together was difficult. The stress we were under in our own circumstances could play out in these short times together. But it was always worth it in the end. And a year later I made the move to be with him, sealing our path together that would see us married and starting a family.

On this particular trip, like the many I've taken in recent years, I read my novel and listened to my iPod, occasionally glancing out the windows at the scenery going by. If you've ever taken this trip, you know how amazingly stunning Coastal British Columbia is. Admittedly, I haven't travelled enough to be objective, but I do believe that this place is one of the most stunning I've seen. I feel lucky and honoured to call it my home.

A couple trips ago, I saw a pod of killer whales. Not the first time I had seen them. As usual, when the crew announces a pod nearby, everyone flocks to the closest window or goes out on deck to find a good view. I distinctly remember almost being annoyed with how big a deal all these people were making of this event. It's not the first pod I'd seen and it won't be the last.

My response back then shocks me now but really I shouldn't be surprised. It was the first trip after the we lost Kenneth. I felt numb so my response to everything was equally numb. I remember crying, no, sobbing silently, and trying to make sure no one else saw me. It was one of the most difficult trips I ever made.

Today, like that day several months ago, the sun shone brilliantly. The sky was mostly clear of clouds. Glancing at the waves leaves you momentarily blinded as the sun glints off the peaks. The Islands, ever changing but ever the same stand guard on our passage.

I love this sailing. I had forgotten just how much. Coming back today it had hit me how much I missed actually enjoying the crossing and not just being absorbed in whatever I was doing. It had become a mundane occurrence, a fact that saddened me. Today I felt a renewed interest in the world around me, like I was seeing things through new eyes.

Maybe it's just feeling like I'm in a different and good place in my life right now. Maybe it the effect Hope can have. Maybe it doesn't matter why, just simply that it happened. I had been jaded and the veil seems to have been lifted.

These are two photos I took of another happy sailing. It was a trip that turned out to be my surprise bridal shower.

On another note, I discovered Saturday morning that peanut butter (which I LOVE) is NOT my friend. I had an apple and made two halves of an english muffin with margarine and peanut butter. By the end of the first half I suddenly couldn't chew anymore but I couldn't swallow either. I promptly hurried to the bathroom and lost my breakfast! Yay for still being pregnant! Boo for having to put peanut butter on the NO list. :(

Don't forget to stop by and see what other's are waxing poetically about...

Show and Tell: Coming Full Circle

During last week's Show and Tell, I told you all the story of how I came up with the title of my blog and the url. You may remember my brief story about my two years in Northern Ontario. I used to live about two hours west of Ottawa, our fair nation's capital. Ottawa is a beautiful city. It has the old quaint British feel mixed with French flair and the urban feel of a city still growing. It has charm. I was there this past week for work. I was running a small work conference. And in so many ways I had come full-circle in my life.

Being so close to the places that somewhat scarred and haunted me left me quiet and introspective for the first little while after landing. But there was work to do and fun to be had and I devoted myself to it with great abandon. Well, as much as one can with mild nausea and fatigue. I am after all still pregnant as far as the home tests tell me (I've done four so far). But I digress...

This week I am showing off some photos of Ottawa. I was there for 2 1/2 days, so I didn't have a chance to do any sight seeing. But my manager and I popped out for a 30 minute walk. We were 5 minutes from the Rideau Canal and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to introduce her to the quintessential Cnadaian experience: skating on the Rideau Canal and eating a Beaver Tail. No worries for you vegetarians, a Beaver Tail is a flat fried pastry sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Since skating wasn't an option, we crossed the canal in our boots, her holding desperately to my arm (she's not a fan of the ice to say the least), with me sliding gently along.

Unfortunately I have none of our Beaver Tail-eating evidence but I will leave you some images of a truly lovely Cnadian city in the depths of Winter. Did I mention the day we left it was -36 degrees Celcius? The Beaver Tail we split was just as amazing I remember it to be. Also in such cold weather (it was -20 that day), it warmed our frozen finger tips.

The Rideau Canal is 7.8 kilometers long, making it officially the World's Longest Skating Rink. This is looking south.

Looking North, you can see the Fairmont Chateau Laurier, a castle looking hotel from the former Candian Pacific Railway chain.

This is Parliament Hill, the seat of our Government. I love how so many of the old buildings in Canada have copper roofs. Their age-induced green complements the green of the fields and trees (well in season other than winter that is).

These stands are dotted periodically along the canal.

We missed Winterlude, the famous winter festival, by ONE day! Damn! There is a big ice sculpture contest and each of the hotels that are a participating sponsor have this one outside their door.

I left Ottawa exhausted (as only running a conference on only 8 hours of sleep over two days can) but happy. I done a good job and things went smoothly. But more than that, I had some truly happy memories from a place that I had felt had taken so much out of me, left me bare and broken. A tiny scarred part that had been buried, was drawn out and healed.

Speaking of full-circles, today I went for my prenatal bloodwork, which I needed to have done since it had ben 6 months since the last time I had it completed. 6 months ago, I was in this same place, ever hopeful, a little terrified and ready to go through this again. I left the lab, siphoned of 7 vials of blood, nausea ever present. I left calm.

Beta should be back sometime on Monday.

Now skate over to Mel's to see what treats the Class has for you...

Show and Tell: What's in a Name?

I woke up with a slight headache today. Most likely from oversleeping. I can't help that I liked being warm and cozy under the covers and didn't want to get out of bed. But I got on with my day and attempted to be productive. I was out at the library and on my way home I got off a couple of stations earlier and decided to walk. Today has been brilliant. It's starting to feel (if only for a moment) like spring. The sky was bright and blue and the air crisp but warm. The sun's intensity warmed me to my core. I walked the 20 minutes without my jacket, attempting to ignore the pounding in my head (for which I hadn't taken anything for and was horribly painful). In that weird place between contentedness and pain, I walked and remembered. I don't know what set me off, but I was reflecting on how far I've come. How the years have gone by and despite Fates mysterious and sometimes cruel ways, I've done alright for myself.

If you read this post, you'll know that my childhood was far from ordinary. Having an older brother who fought (for years) and then died from cancer changes you profoundly. But things didn't end there. Life continued to throw my family and I curve balls we could never have seen coming. Out of respect and privacy for my family I won't go into details but suffice to say money (or lack of it) was an issue and a stress. My parents are incredible to me. They have managed to live through incredible situations and raise their children to be thriving, adaptable and caring individuals. A tough task for any parent. My brother and I are very lucky.

My own struggles include verbal bullying from Grade 5 to Grade 10. My brother died in Grade 5, so you can well imagine that I didn't possess the skills to cope with grief and bullies. I had an emotional breakdown in grade 8. We had been forced to move after my brother died (my Dad was in the army at the time). I felt like I was stuck in this place I didn't want to be, with people who were tormenting me and with grief as raw as the day D died. My breakdown was interesting to say the least and involved the school counsellor and my parents. I still have few words to explain what I felt in those days. Despair, for sure. Desperation, likely. But I couldn't seem to communicate anything significant to anyone, let alone those who cared about me. I rebelled in a a weird way, considering I was (to this day) never much of a rebel. Suffice to say that there is a part of me that is certain that if I had stayed in that rural place too much longer, my life would have turned out drastically different. I would have become like so many of the other teenagers that place created. I could easily see drugs, teen pregnancy, maybe even suicide as possibilities had things in my life not changed. Intense, I know, but that is just how it was.

But things did change and we came "home" back to the province where things, as crazy as they had been before and as they eventually became again, made sense. The verbal abuse by random classmates that continued even after the move baffled me, because I didn't understand then that they were just being teenagers, mean ones, but teenagers just the same. But I wasn't. I constantly felt like I was 10 years older than everyone and it came off acting a lot older. I still do and it still does. People have always guessed me as a lot older than I am, although in recent years, the difference isn't as great.

In Sr. High, I came into my own. The bullying ended and I participated in life to the fullest. I was in band and musical theatre. I was a part of the school Leadership group. I continued working part-time (out of necessity, not desire, trust me). I became a little (okay a lot) scatterbrained in the process of spreading myself too thin (just ask my friends who will gladly share a few interesting stories). But at the end of each day I could say that I lived life well. I had changed in the two years since we moved back and became the person I couldn't have back in the hell-days.
Jump forward to University, year two. A friend who I was in English classes with, was with me in the Used Book Store one day. I had shared a lot of the nitty-gritty details of my life with her. She came across this bumper sticker, handed it to me and said, "This is SOOO you." I took one look at it, agreed, and bought it with the biggest smile. This is it: (you can click on it to get a better look)



When I started my blog, the title was an obvious one. It is my life's motto, my ultimate goal (the joy of that woman is what I long for, strive for). That's why I'll never change the title of my blog. It will always fit.

My URL is another interesting story (and a little shorter).

In that same year of University, I took sociology, which as a side-note is a favourite subject of mine. After the final exam for the 2nd class I took, we all (Prof included) went to the campus pub for drinks and a little get-together. I had spoken of a couple deeply personal things that had happened in my life in this class. One of my classmates sat next to me and was asking questions about some of it. Always being a fairly open person, I answered as best I could. After our discussion she exclaimed, "Wow, you're pretty well-adjusted for someone who's been through all that!" I was stunned by the veracity of her statement, not having given much though to it in the past. Apparently, I'm well-adjusted. Hence my blog url. It too shall never change.

Mel posted a question in this post about whether you would change your blog title if you felt it no longer fit you or your life. As I've already said, I wouldn't. I will always be striving to live a full life with no regrets and I'll always be as well-adjusted as I can despite the circumstances. My blog subject of the moment may change but it will always be a reflection of who I am and where I've come. This growth is essential to my well being. I need to know that I can get past things and strive to take that next step. I'm driven by a twist of Fate I haven't quite figured out yet.

Maybe I never will. Maybe I don't need to.

Congratulations if you made it to the bottom of this very long post (my apologies), but be sure to wander over here to see what other treasures the class is showing...

Turning Insanity on It's Head

Sometimes you just have to take where you are at the moment and turn it on it's head. In the battle to maintain optimism and hope, you may need to look at the path in a different way.

Handstands can sometimes be helpful...

Not Just Another Friday

Today the fog lifted and the sun shone.
The sky was brilliantly blue.
One of a few friends who are in town met me for lunch.
I am in less pain.
Work was productive.

Today was a beautiful day.

Reflections from the Harbour

Careful of my heeled boots, I walked on the balls of my feet down the metal gangway. I treaded along on my toes till I reached the base of the floating pier. The cold dark water swirled back on forth underneath the cement and wood in the relaxed ebb and flow of the daily tide. Standing there, I took in my surroundings. I love Coal Harbour. This lovely place where the hustle and bustle of the downtown core meets the serene gathering of green space and walking paths. This port city I call home enchants me. I love watching the cargo ships coming and going, and the float planes landing and taking off. The Seabuses, our trusty catamarans, ferry transit-goers from North Vancouver to Downtown Vancouver and vice-versa, the continual exchange just another near-constant rhythm in the life of this city. Except I couldn't see them today. The fog (ever present these days) was nestled snugly outside the edge of downtown obscuring the North Shore and much of Stanley Park. I stood there with the sky above lightly overcast but bright, the sun trying it's best to break through fully. It was cold; hovering around zero degrees Celsius. My breath easily visible in the air. My cheeks chilled and flushed; hands buried deep in the pockets of my down filled parka. Shivering slightly, I drew my hood over my head and just stood there warm and content to observe. I walk the Seawall all the time. Almost everyday on my lunch hour if I can. The power walk refreshes me and gives me that much needed energy to get me though the afternoon. Most days, I make the trek to the Westin Bayshore and back; a three kilometre loop I usually walk in 30-40 minutes. Long legs make for a long quick strides. Today, though, I felt this great urge to stop on the pier. It's a tie-up area for boats in the harbour. It's often empty unless it's the middle of the summer. Today was no exception, as I stood there alone with my thoughts. All alone except for the cormorants who are always sitting on the wooden pilings, sleek black sentinels guarding the harbour and its residents. I've been trying to work out why I felt the need to stop today. What was it about the pier that drew me to it? The sight of the city and mountains engulfed in fog wasn't depressing in the way it had been last week, but rather, it calmed me. I felt something but I wasn't melancholy or sad. I'm not sure how to describe it. Maybe I'm just reacting to my stupid neck injury and feeling sorry for myself. After an odd and restless sleep, I woke up yesterday and could barely move my head without insane pain. I'm practically immobilized from the top of my spine to the bottom of my left shoulder blade. The pain has been so much that I'm near tears if I'm not hopped up on extra-strength Tylenol. Yesterday, I managed to see one of the massage therapists at the centre I go to. He worked for an hour on my back, neck, and hips. Basically, I'm stuck like this for another couple of days although I should start feeling better hopefully tomorrow. And what did I exactly do, you might ask? Well, it seems that in my neck, one of the tiny joints that run along our spine has slipped out of place a bit. Yeah, ouch. Because that means all the supporting ligaments and muscles are strained trying to hold up my head and keep my shoulder and arm moving. <Sigh> So I have to sit with perfect posture and not look down in order to keep my head perfectly balanced on my shoulders, or else it hurts. I feel like I should be wearing a neck brace and football shoulder pads. Interesting image, no? Suffice to say that while the pain will diminish (hopefully very soon), it's left me in this peculiar mood. This injury certainly isn't going to aid in my attempt to get pregnant this cycle. And maybe that's it right there. I'm not even halfway through my cycle and I've already given up on it. Why? It isn't like me. Where's the cheerful optimist with her pom-poms believing in the best of all possibilities? Where did my enthusiasm go? I feel kind of blah about a lot of things right now. Trying to conceive a child shouldn't be one of them. But then again, 9 cycles and 2 pregnancies later and I feel like I'm still back where I started from: trying to conceive and carry a child. So here I am, trying to reconcile where I've been with this current feeling of ambivalence. There's a part of me that wants to say that it's doesn't bug me, but it does. It's not me. I am never ambivalent. I feel things, one way or another. But right now I feel numb. I walked the rest of the pier and back up the other gangway, again on the balls of my feet. The bitter winter wind slapping the few areas of exposed skin. I walked back up to the Seawall and kept walking. It was the only thing left to do. Sometimes, the days where we feel the most defeated are the days we have to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope that we magically find our way to the place we were headed. So here I am, still walking. I'm tired and in pain, but I'm walking...

A Book Review: Late Nights On Air

So in all the hub bub of last week and the weekend I never got to tell you that I successfully finished my book! Yes, I managed to read Late Nights on Air in one week.

I found myself gripped in it. Set in Yellowknife, NWT, in the mid 1970's, the story explores a host of characters who work at the CBC Radio Station before TV made it's way north and in the days of the inquiries and hearings over whether or not an oil pipeline should be built across the Territories. It's a time of change and turbulence.

Elizabeth Hay's writing style is interesting. She weaves the story like a river cutting the plain. It meanders, snakes back and pushes forward, sometimes gently, sometimes ruthlessly. She writes the story in a way that reflects the natural environment- sparse and beautiful and changing. Her characters are equally compelling. They are complex and mysterious, fallible and bold. They are real in that they are very much made of their pasts, revelling in memories both tender and sad. They seek a future for themselves. And like most of us, they have ideas and dreams but usually have no idea how exactly they're going to get there and make it happen.

It made me think a lot about choices and how so much can hinge on the smallest of them. How a simple decision in one moment doesn't just irrevocably change your own life but also the lives of those around us- for better, or for worse. This story gives you space in your own life to reflect on how you got where you are now and where you're going. It gives you space to be reflective in only the way a story set in sparse wilderness and a small northern city can.

So... did I enjoy the book? Yes! Would I read it again? Undoubtedly, as I feel I'd like to take it at a slower pace and revel in and immerse myself in the story as it unfolds, even though I already know the ending. Would I recommend it to others? Yes! Especially if you have absolutely no knowledge about "The North", that mysterious place above the 60th parallel that incites and inspires and endures.

So one down on my list of Giller Prize winners. Up next is M.G. Vassanji's The Book of Secrets. I haven't had a chance to start reading yet and it's due in a week but I think I'll renew it and take it with me on my trip. Where am I going you ask? Oh yeah, I'm working on our company conference again this year and will be whisked away to our beautiful wintry National Capital: Ottawa. 4 hours on the plane each way should give me a chance to get some solid reading done.